Definition of Family
by music842
Summary: An anonymous call to social services results in the arrest of Johnny's parents, and his placement in a foster home. What consequences will this have for the rest of the gang—will it change Johnny and Dallas' tragic future? Rewritten!
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you to all of you who have been following this story! I am re-writing; the plot had gotten cumbersome, among other things. Please let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy! **

**As always, everything belongs to S.E. Hinton.**

* * *

Johnny wondered, sometimes, what his parents were like before he was born. Before the alcohol, before the poverty. Were his father's eyes bright? Did his mother smile? Did they celebrate Christmas?

Every so often he wondered what their lives were like growing up. Did their parents tell them they were worthless, beat them until they couldn't see straight? Was there ever any light in their lives? Did they have friends? Or siblings?

Johnny knew surprisingly little about any of his family. His father was the son of local farmers; he had long lost any of the land that belonged to his family. His mother had immigrated to the United States from Mexico with her family during the war. Her father worked as a farm hand for a man that never came back from the war. And that was the extent of it. Honestly, Johnny's father was too drunk most of the time to get a coherent sentence out anyway, his mother too detached. She blamed Johnny for most of her problems. _If it wasn't for you, we'd have money...If it wasn't for you, we'd be happy..._Johnny knew that they didn't have any money because of his father's constant trips to the bar and the liquor store; they hardly spent any money on him at all, but even so, he couldn't help but blame himself for his family's dysfunction.

"Johnny?" Dallas asked, dabbing a cloth soaked in rubbing alcohol to the gash that ran down the side of Johnny's face. It quickly absorbed the angry red blood that coated his cheek, and Dally swore under his breath.

"I'm ok, Dally," Johnny said softly. He couldn't tell Dallas what he had been thinking about. Dallas was really good at figuring out _now_, but couldn't give a damn about how you got there or what happened the next day. He would tell Johnny to stop worrying about those worthless pieces of shit, and start worrying about himself.

Dallas was silent the rest of the time he cleaned out Johnny's cuts. That worried Johnny, Dallas wasn't usually quiet. The last time this had happened, Dally had gone on and on about how he would take care of Johnny's father himself, that he was a no-good-son-of-a-bitch...It had taken both Darry and Steve to restrain him. Now, he looked almost defeated. The anger was still there, though, bubbling under the surface. With Dally, it never really went away.

Johnny winced as Dally finished with the rubbing alcohol. The stinging radiated to the edges of his cheek and up to his temple; that bottle had sure cut him up.

Dally stood up abruptly, throwing the bloodied cloth in the bathroom before walking down the hallway to the small closet that held the extra blankets and pillows.

Walking back to the living room, Dally tossed Johnny a blanket and sank down into the worn out armchair. That kid was going to be the death of him. It felt like they went through this on an almost weekly basis. But why the hell should he care? It wasn't his problem if the kid had a death wish—going back to that house day after day. Hell, as soon as _his_ father started smackin' him around, he made a point to never be near his house. And once he got old enough, he fought back like a rabid animal. Johnny wouldn't defend himself, that's what he didn't get.

The Curtis' wall clock chimed three. He wouldn't get any sleep tonight. It's not like he ever really went to bed much earlier when he was at Buck's, but over there he could at least count on interrupted sleep through the late morning. And the alcohol would have stopped him from thinking so much. Dally looked over to Johnny, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He wasn't asleep, either.

"How many times are you gonna let them do this to you, huh?" Dally pushed his white-blonde hair back.

Johnny couldn't meet Dally's eyes. Or answer his question, at least not in a way that would be satisfying to the other boy. He wasn't really sure himself. It was difficult for him to blame them too much, when he guessed his parents were victims of their circumstances just like they all were. Would any of them really turn out any better? Maybe Ponyboy. Maybe the Curtises. Johnny's biggest fear was having his own kids and turning into just as much of an abusive alcoholic as his own father. He told Dally this once, one of those nights they had both found themselves sleeping out in the empty lot, and Dally had said in no uncertain terms that he was crazy. _What the hell's wrong with you, Johnnycake? If anyone'd turn out like that, it'd be me. Or Shepard._

Dally looked over at the younger boy one more time, and sighing, he closed his eyes. He wouldn't get an answer from Johnny; he never did.

* * *

Darry's alarm went off much earlier than he would have liked. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he slowly made his way to the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Finally beginning to wake up, he headed to the front door to grab the paper. Looking into the living room, he could see Johnny curled up on the couch, and Dallas spread out, looking uncomfortable on the armchair. For the past month or so, it seemed both of them had been at the house almost every other night. He was glad Johnny was here, instead at home with the abuse, or in the empty lot. Dally's presence surprised him some, at least the first couple times. He knew to expect it, now. Knew that while Dally cared about very little, he was protective of Johnny.

Dallas stirred when he heard Darry moving around. Sitting up slowly, his mind clouded with exhaustion, he pieced together the events of the previous night. How many more times would they repeat this? How many fuckin' times?

Darry poured two cups of coffee, and walked back over to the living room. Silently, he handed one to Dally, whose face was now clouded over, dark.

"It's not your fault, Dallas," Darry spoke quietly. He treaded carefully, knowing full well Dally could lash out at any moment.

"I should've killed the bastard. I should've fuckin' killed him." Dallas didn't know what to do anymore. No one cared; if you didn't have money, you weren't worth anything, you were just another useless good for nothing hood. Johnny never did anything to anyone, wouldn't hurt a fly, but no one gave a damn if his old man beat him to a pulp every day. Dally couldn't even count the number of times Johnny had gone to school looking like this. The teachers just assumed that he had gotten into a fight, like all the rest of the greasers. Just assumed he was worthless.

Darry sighed. "Dallas, listen, we all feel that way, but you aren't going to do him any good in jail." Dally gave Darry a dangerous look, but he knew he was right, despite his longing to give Johnny's old man a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

Judith Morrows smoothed the front of her skirt nervously. It was her first day at her new job, and she was already questioning her decision to pursue this career path. Maybe her mother was right; she should have settled down, married Jimmy from up the street. She wouldn't have been wealthy, but she'd be taken care of. Wouldn't have to worry about supporting herself.

But no, she had to insist on going to school, to that two-year junior college. She remembered her graduation with a sense of pride, remembered how accomplished she had felt. Neither of her parents had attended the ceremony. Her father seemed upset that she now had more education than he did, and her mother was still insistent that she should settle down and have babies. That a woman's place was in the home. Sometimes she wanted to agree with them, but she knew she wouldn't be happy like that. So many of her friends from high school had gotten married, had children already, and she saw the monotony of their lives. How any aspirations they had were gone. Her best friend, Amanda, had done so well in school. Was one of the top students in the class. She had talked about college, about a career in science. But graduation came, and her boyfriend proposed, and that was the end of that. It's not that Judith _never_ wanted those things, it's just she wanted them a little later, after she knew herself a little better.

Judith was startled out of her thoughts when one of the women who had run the training for the handful of new employees walked over to her desk.

"There's a new case. Some kid from the North Side. Wouldn't worry too much, those kids are always in trouble." The older woman dropped a small, manilla folder of Judith's desk, before walking out of the office, cigarette in hand.

Judith tried to hide her surprise. How could they be so dismissive of a child? She was from a very small town, about twenty minutes outside of Tulsa, but she had heard a little of the economic rivalry that ran rampant in the city. She just didn't imagine that it was so deeply ingrained. Well, she would just have to do her best on this case. She wasn't going to let a child fall through the cracks because of the side of town he lived on.

Running her hand over the front of the folder, she took in a deep breath and opened it. Johnathan Cade. Sixteen. Anonymous report of injuries consistent with abuse, one week ago. Pulling a more yellowed paper out from the back of the file: report of injuries, Karen Curtis, 1961. Dismissed, no abuse evident.

She would get to the bottom of this. And she wouldn't dismiss him. No, even if she was chastised for taking too much time on a case, she would do right by this boy. God knows no one else in this town would.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for everyone who is continuing to read this story! I have much more to write, and I will not abandon this. S.E. Hinton owns everything.**

"You never answered my question last night, kid." Dally sat in the armchair, feet on the coffee table, finishing the last of his cheeseburger. Darry didn't have any food in the house, so he went to the Dino and got two burgers and a shake for Johnny. Johnny hadn't eaten any of his yet. He wondered how many more times they were going to do this; how many times he would find Johnny beaten to a bloody pulp? How many more times would they end up in the Curtis' living room at two o'clock in the morning because Johnny could barely stand?

Johnny searched his mind for something to say that would make Dally happy, but he wasn't able to come up with anything. "I don't know. Dal, I just...I can't. I can't take much more of this..."

"Don't you talk that way!" Dallas was standing up now. He remembered Johnny being suicidal before, and it had scared the shit out of him."You think my parents give a hang about me? The gang needs you—_they're_ your family! None of this is your fault. It's your piece of shit parents. That _bastard_." Dally spoke the last word with as much vitriol as he could muster. He didn't think he ever hated anyone as much as he hated Johnny's father. "You want me to take care of him? I've been trying for years Johnny, but you won't let me! You won't let me!" Dallas slammed his hand down so hard on the table it felt like he broke something; his knuckles reddened, and the nearby glass wobbled precariously.

Johnny stared wide-eyed at Dallas. He hated when Dally got this mad; he was always a little afraid he would hit him, but something inside told him that Dally never would. That Dally needed Johnny just as much as he needed Dally.

Dally took in several deep breaths trying to contain his anger. He felt bad—Johnny looked scared—but something had to change. One of these times, Johnny's father would go just a little too far, and instead of cuts and bruises, it would be brain damage. Or he'd bleed out. Dallas had seen both when he'd been in New York. There'd be a fight, one of the guys would get hit a little too hard, and they'd be fucked up forever after. And he'd seen plenty of guys go down in knife fights. _Don't think about New York, don't think about it_...God, and Johnny didn't even fight back. His anger began to rise again, but he felt something else, too. He was afraid.

What Dally had really wanted to say to Johnny was that _he_ needed him; that sometimes he thought Johnny was the only thing holding him together, that Johnny was like a brother to him. But he couldn't—_Get tough and nothin' can touch you_—that's what his buddy Alex said to him in New York, before he died in a gang fight. In New York, it wasn't just fists like Tulsa—it was knives, and heaters and chains. He couldn't get through the day if he softened up, he wouldn't survive. Even as he thought this, though, a small part of him knew if he continued to follow Alex's advice he _still_ wouldn't survive. He'd die violent and young like Alex. But softening up wasn't an option for him. Not when he still didn't have a real place to live, when he didn't have any kind of real money.

"Listen, Johnny, I'm sorry for yellin' at ya, but you can't let them do this to you anymore. I don't want you goin' back over there. Stay at the Curtis' for a while." Johnny gave Dally a look. Dally knew he felt guilty, didn't want to put another burden on them, but what choice did they have? "Darry ain't gonna care, kid. What, are you going to start eating like Two-Bit, clearing out their whole fridge?" Dally tried to lighten the mood a little.

Johnny cracked a small smile.

"Right. So don't go back there. I don't want to see you in the lot, either. The Socs ain't stayin' in their territory, and they won't fight fair. They don't have any problem fighting four-against-one."

Dally knew this could only be a temporary situation. Darry barely had enough money to pay the bills, and take care of his own brothers. For the first time in his life, Dally found himself wishing he had a steady job. At least then he could rent more than a room at Buck's place, and Johnny would have somewhere else to stay.

* * *

Judith completed a few hours of office work, editing and correcting reports, filing correspondence between their office and the state, before she was told to begin the fieldwork for Johnathan Cade's case. _You've only got one case now, because you're new, but the normal load is over five. Don't take too long on this one. _ She was sure she wasn't the only one who came in wanting to change the lives of every kid she came across, but then again, seeing the people she worked with, she wasn't so sure.

As she drove down the streets of Tulsa's North Side, Judith was suddenly grateful to be driving her father's ancient Chevy. How out of place she must look, dressed up like she was in a skirt suit and heels. She passed several dingy houses with overgrown and unkempt yards before arriving at the Cade's, but theirs somehow looked to be the most worn and unhappy. The front gate blew open and closed in the wind, unable to latch properly; the front windows were missing all but one of their shutters.

Taking a deep breath, Judith parked the car out front. Her heels clicked unnaturally on the broken sidewalk as she walked to the front door. She knocked forcefully, knowing there was no room for uncertainty. One minute passed, and then another. She pulled nervously at one of her unruly curls as she waited for any kind of response from the occupants of the house. Not seeing any signs of life, she knocked again, even louder. As she waited for any kind of response, she planned her next stops. The high school—that's where she would go first. Maybe some of his teachers had seen evidence of his treatment at home? Would the school nurse have any information?

As Judith went through her plan in her head (stop at the school next, administrators and the nurse, then try to track down some of Johnathan's friends), she heard a soft rustling inside the house. A tired, empty looking woman cracked the door.

"What do you want?" Judith watched Johnny's mother narrow her eyes.

"I am here responding to allegations of abuse against your son, Johnathan. I just need to..."

Before Judith was able to finish, the woman in front of her burst out in anger.

"Abuse? Ha! You call putting a roof over his head and food in his mouth abuse? All I did for that little piece of shit, and this is how he repays me! He's no good! Hanging around those good-for-nothing hoodlums!" As Elena Cade continued, her voice rose in pitch and intensity, until Judith was sure everyone in Tulsa could hear exactly what she was saying.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we must follow up with any allegation we receive, true or not. If you don't cooperate, the police will become immediately involved." Judith did her best to keep her face neutral, but she had wanted to shake the angry, cold woman in front of her. School had not prepared her for this.

After Judith had mentioned the threat of police, Johnny's mother reluctantly let her in and curtly answered the questions she was given. None of the answers were satisfactory. The house wasn't satisfactory. Everything was covered in a layer of filth, and the room that Elena told her was Johnny's was small and barren.

The door slammed behind Judith as she walked back down the overgrown front yard to her car. Maybe her mother was right, maybe this was too much. Maybe she should have married that dull boy from high school and stayed home. But something told her that wasn't true, that what she was doing meant something, that it was important she continued.

* * *

Darry's last roofing job ran late, and he found himself stumbling in the front door at almost seven thirty. He hoped Soda made something for dinner, because he just didn't have the energy to throw anything together. He threw his tool belt down, and headed into the kitchen. As he peered into the fridge, Soda came bounding out.

"Hey Darry, I went shopping. Made some chicken and potatoes, I left a plate for you."

"Thanks, little buddy." Darry sank into the chair, groaning with exhaustion. Some days he came home barely able to move, and this was certainly one of those days.

"Pony?" Darry called out before starting his dinner. "Did you finish your homework?" He'd be damned if Ponyboy had to do what he was doing now.

"Yes Darry! Stop buggin' me, ok? I did it when I got home from school, like I always do!" Ponyboy was sitting in the living room, playing cards with Johnny.

Darry didn't say anything, he was tired of arguing. If he said he did it, then he did it. Sometimes he just wished Ponyboy understood what he had to do to keep them together, and why he wanted better for him. He would have given anything to have the opportunities that Pony had. He would never abandon his brothers, but every once and a while he would imagine his life if their parents hadn't died, imagine what college would be like.

* * *

It was much later when Dally walked in the Curtises' door. He had been drinking at Buck's, and probably would have stayed there except for the fact Johnny still wasn't himself. The house was dark when he walked in, and he tripped over a discarded plate, swearing just a little too loudly. Johnny stirred on the couch, but didn't wake.

As soon as Dally sat down in the armchair, he drifted off. He had one too many beers at Buck's, and his head was starting to pound, so sleep was not unwelcome. But Dallas' sleep wasn't restful. An abandoned church lit up in flames. Fire everywhere. He woke several times before the morning, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. _Shit, I really need to lay off the booze_. But it wasn't the partying he did at Buck's-Dally's nightmares would continue, for weeks.


End file.
